Paralyzer
by anneryn7
Summary: AU. AH. Tonight we're catering for Derek's uncle, Peter. I've never met the guy before. An older, very attractive guy greeted us... God, he's like the physical embodiment of freaking perfection. He must be Derek's uncle. Tonight's not going to be easy. I'm going to have to dump ice down my pants.


**I DO NOT OWN **_**TEEN WOLF**_** OR THE CHARACTERS.  
Music Credit: "Paralyzer" – Finger Eleven**

* * *

_~*.*~  
_'_I hold on, so nervously, to me and my drink.  
I wish it was cooling me, but so far has not been good.  
It's been shitty and I feel awkward, as I should._

_This club has got to be the most pretentious thing, since I thought you and me…  
Well, I am imagining a dark lit place, or your place, or my place!_

_Well, I'm not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you.  
I wanna make you move, because you're standing still.  
If your body matches what your eyes can do, you'll probably move right through me, on my way to you.'  
~*.*~_

* * *

I adjusted my tie for the umpteenth time tonight. I know we all look 'sharp,' but that doesn't stop me from being self conscious. You'd be surprised how often we cater in Beacon Hills. It's normally some party or something for the local government.

Tonight though, tonight we're catering for Derek's uncle, Peter. I've never met the guy before, but if he's related to Derek he can't be that bad… He probably just scowls and glares awkwardly at you. But then again, I don't know Derek as well as Scott and Isaac do… Well, really, everyone knows him better than I do. I talk to the guy, sure, but I'm pretty sure that I get on his nerves more than anything. I'm that little brother that he never had and is glad he didn't. I don't mind. Pestering him is fun. I can't complain that much.

When Boyd told us that his mom was starting a catering business, it really wasn't a big deal. None of us thought anything of it, until he asked if we would be interested in working for her. We were all about to graduate. It was the end of senior year and all of us could use the cash. Okay, _**some**_ of us could use the cash. Not all of us were loaded like Lydia or Jackson. Allison's family certainly wasn't hurting for money. I've seen her house and both of her parents rake in the dough from their jobs.

Scott, Isaac, Erica, Boyd and I all work together. It's a good mix. Erica keeps things sassy. I love it. We speak sarcasm and comics so well together. Isaac has warmed up to everyone and he's funnier than he looks, despite his unhealthy obsession with scarves. Boyd doesn't say much, but you can tell he likes being around all of us, especially Erica. Scott and I… Well, when don't Scott and I get along? We're partners in crime – _**brothers**_. Despite my total lack of coordination, I liked the job.

"You're early." An older, _**very**_ attractive guy mused. A small smirk played on his lips, like he knew a secret that he wasn't going to tell any of us.

"Yeah, my mom told me that you wanted us here early to set up." Boyd responded, in his usual calm demeanor.

"Yes, I did. Once you have all of the food set up, I'll go through which items I would like served at which times." The man smiled. God, he's like the physical embodiment of freaking _**perfection**_. He must be Derek's uncle. Tonight's not going to be easy. I'm going to have to dump ice down my pants.

"That shouldn't be a problem, Mr. Hale." Boyd's mother assured Peter, as she walked into the kitchen carrying trays and empty glasses. Peter smiled at her and took the glasses for her and set them on the counter.

"Please, call me Peter. Boys, where are your manners? No woman should have to carry all of that inside by herself." Peter chided us for letting Brooke, Boyd's mother, carry in an armful of dishes. Brooke smiled in thanks, but still looked embarrassed.

"Right, sorry Ms. B!" Scott apologized. We all followed him out the door, to unload the catering van for her. I felt eyes on me the entire way. Every time I came in with things, I had to fight the urge to look at Derek's insanely attractive uncle.

I mean, it shouldn't be surprising. I've seen Derek and he's built like a fucking god… all chiseled and perfect. But Peter, he's in a league all of his own. There are just some people that you see that can't take your eyes off of. That's what Peter is. I look at him and… ugh… I'm pretty sure I lost all ability to form actual words.

* * *

"Guests will be arriving soon. Could I get half of you to serve champagne and the other half to serve the hors d'oeuvres?" Peter asked us.

Brooke gestured which trays she wanted us all to take. I carried a tray full of appetizers. It's a safer bet for me. I'm known to spill the liquid stuff. I waited until the others filed out of the kitchen. Peter put a hand on my shoulder to stop me. I looked up at him in surprise.

"Mr. Stilinski, would you mind if I fixed your tie?" He asked me. I smiled at him, sheepishly. I cursed inwardly. I tried to make sure it was perfect. I guess I didn't do as well as I thought I had. I nodded.

"S-sure," I agreed. He smiled and turned me to face him. Brooke left with a tray of her own, leaving us alone in the kitchen. I became very aware of just how fast my heart was beating. Peter started to adjust my necktie. I swear I can feel his body heat through my clothes. I couldn't take my eyes off of his devastatingly handsome face. His eyes are so overwhelmingly blue.

"How old are you, Mr. Stilinski? That is, if you don't mind my asking." Peter asked me, drawing my attention to his pale pink lips and his strong jaw. He looked at me expectantly and I remembered that I was supposed to be answering his question. I gave him an apologetic grin and tried to will myself to not to embarrass myself further.

"I'm eighteen." I breathed. He nodded and inched just a bit closer to me. I'm finding it increasingly hard to breathe with Peter taking over my personal space. "Why?" I asked as an afterthought. Peter smirked and I tried to think about anything other than how impossibly hard I was and how obvious it must be.

"I wanted to know if the naughty thoughts I was having about you were illegal or not." Peter purred. Did I hear him right? Did he really just say that to me? It's gotta be wishful thinking… "You look good enough to eat, Mr. Stilinski." He breathed. My jaw went slack and I felt my mouth dry up.

"Stiles," I corrected him. He looked at me, puzzled by my words. "My name… Stiles. Dude, I'm not _**that**_ old." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. Peter chuckled at my outburst.

"Stiles," he let my name roll off of his tongue. Why does it sound so much better when he says it? Peter leaned forward and I felt his breath tickling my neck and his lips brush my ear. I gasped when he rolled his hips against mine. "Has anyone ever told you that the way you bite your lip is positively pornographic?" He whispered. I shivered and ran my tongue along my bottom lip, in place of the teeth that I hadn't even realized where biting it. Peter groaned and took a step back from me.

"Is everything alright in here?" Ms. Boyd asked us. I didn't even hear her come back into the kitchen. I nodded, over-enthusiastically.

"I was just commended Mr. Stilinski about his work ethic and fixing his tie." Peter supplied an excuse, along with a winning smile. Brooke smiled at him and nodded.

"He's a good one." She agreed. I cleared my throat and bolted from the kitchen. I turned on my charm and worked the room with my tray of appetizers, trying to think about anything but Peter.

* * *

I felt his eyes on me every time I walked passed him. Every time I braved a glance in his direction, I could feel him undressing me with his eyes. There is only so much a guy can take, before he has to take matters into his own hands and find the nearest bathroom to _**relieve**_ himself, before he creams his pants.

I washed my hand and adjusted my slacks, before opening the bathroom door. I gasped when I saw Peter standing in the doorway looking at me with a predatory smirk. I gulped.

"How was it?" He asked me, completely unabashed. For once in my life, I was speechless. "Was it satisfying?" He pressed. I died. I fucking _**died**_. I didn't matter that I just came minutes ago, because I was hard and ready to go again, with just his words. The mischievous glint in his eye told me that he knew it, too.

"E-everybody washes their hands." I deflected. The lie didn't sound believable in the slightest. Peter smirked and backed me back into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him. I drank him in and whimpered. The noise seemed to strike something inside of him, because he all but pounced. He locked the door and pinned me to the wall his body.

"That's not all you were doing in here. Was it, Stiles?" He purred. My breath hitched and my heartbeat quickened.

"No," I admitted.

"I can smell it on you. You smell like sex." He told me. "It makes me wonder just how pretty you would look bent over the bathroom sink as I sank my cock inside of you." He groaned. He let his fingers trail down my torso and cup my straining erection through my clothes, to reiterate his point. "I'll have to thank my nephew for suggesting Ms. Boyd's services, because I doubt he knew just how much he was giving me, when he passed along her business card. Tell me, Stiles, do you find me arousing?" He questioned, with a velvety smooth tone that should be outlawed. I nodded, at a loss for words. "I've been thinking about fucking you since you walked into my house."

"God," I whispered. A smirk played on Peter's mouth.

"Close, but not quite," he said, as he winked at me. Someone started knocking on the door and I knew that our time was over and it was time to go back to my job. Peter reached behind me and grabbed my ass. The noise that came out of my mouth was in no way manly and I didn't care. "We will continue this later." He promised.

* * *

So far tonight, I've tripped over my feet four times. I've gotten tongue-tied more than I can count. I've been caught staring at Peter twice. I've spilled three trays of food. Thank God they were in the kitchen and we had extra. I'm a hot mess and the innuendos that Peter keeps slipping in conversation around me isn't helping, _**at all**_.

Isaac keeps smirking at me, like he knows exactly what's going on. I'm this close to pulling him into the nearest empty room and asking him what Peter's deal is. I'm not complaining, but I don't really know the guy.

Almost on cue, Isaac passed me with an empty tray, still smirking. I debated for a millisecond, before setting down my own empty tray and dragging Isaac outside to the thankfully empty patio. He looked up at me in surprise and I looked at him pointedly.

"You know Peter." I voiced. It wasn't a question and we both knew it. He nodded, looking amused again.

"I do. He's Derek's uncle and I spend a lot of time at Derek's place." He admitted, not bothering to hide anything. Good.

"What's his deal?" I asked him. Isaac looked at me for a second, before answering me. He shrugged.

"Peter likes pretty things… pretty _**guys**_."

"You think I'm pretty?" I asked him, smiling at him sheepishly, momentarily forgetting what we were talking about. Isaac laughed nodded.

"I'm not blind, Stiles, but don't worry. Danny is more my type." He assured me. I nodded. "And I'm pretty sure that I'd have to be blind to see the way that Peter has been eye-fucking you all night." He added. I snorted.

"Is he like a decent guy, though?"

"Yeah, Peter is a good guy. Sometimes his methods are a little unconventional, and he's a little manipulative, but I trust him. He and Derek are like family. He's not going to kill you in your sleep, if that's what you're worried about."

"I wasn't… until now. Should I be?" I asked him, in a moment of panic. Isaac laughed and shook his head. "Okay, good. Thanks buddy." I smiled at him, before walking inside. "And I can totally see you with Danny." I told him.

It was Isaac's turn to look embarrassed. I laughed. I wasn't even attempting to pay attention and ran into a solid chest. I started to fall backwards, but was caught by a pair of strong arms. My eyes widened when I realized that those arms belonged to Peter.

"Are you alright, Stiles?" He asked me. The way that he said my name sounded positively sinful and damn was it hot.

"I am now." I responded, the filter on my mouth once again disappearing. Peter smiled and his hands moved from my biceps to my back to my _**backside**_. I whimpered and tried not to focus on the fact that I had just flirted shamelessly.

"You're _**fine**_ – aren't you, Stiles?" Peter asked me. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment and arousal. I nodded. "I have something outside that I need to bring inside, but it requires a delicate _**touch**_. Can you help me with that? You seem like such a strapping young man." I barely heard the words that left his lips. I couldn't focus on anything other than his hands on me and he knew that I was a goner. Peter looked at me with undiluted triumph. "Would you mind giving me a _**hand**_, Stiles? You can handle a little heavy lifting can't you? You look like the type that would enjoy some _**physical**_ labor…"

"You do realize that you're not alone in the house – don't you?" I jumped as Derek's voice wafted passed Peter and into my ears. I looked down at my feet, or tried to. Peter sighed.

"I'll never understand why you're always trying to ruin my fun, Derek." Peter told him, without turning around.

"And I'll never understand why you're trying to dry-hump a teenager, in front of a houseful of people." Derek countered. Peter chuckled. I balked at both of them.

"Oh, my _**God**_." I breathed. Right now, I wanna be anywhere but here. I think I'm going to die in embarrassment. Is that even possible? I don't even know…

"You're scaring Stiles." Peter mused, finally moving away from me. Derek snorted.

"It's not like that's hard." Derek agreed.

"I'm right here." I reminded him.

"It's not as if my guests are around us, Derek. You're over-exaggerating." Peter pressed.

"Is he even legal?" Derek kept hounding Peter. I'm pretty sure my entire face is tomato red.

"Yes," I squeaked. Both Derek and Peter laughed at that. I could even hear Isaac snickering in the background.

"When I suggested this catering service, it wasn't so you could prey on teenage boys." Derek sighed.

"Kill me now." I sighed, wistfully.

"Give them a break, Derek. Stiles looks like he wants to die from embarrassment. I don't know why you're surprised. Peter likes them pretty and we've both seen Stiles." Isaac mused. Peter clapped Isaac on the shoulder.

"He is – isn't he?" Peter agreed. Derek just looked amused by everything.

"So… now that we've established how pretty I am, can we go somewhere away from them?" I asked Peter.

"Oh, there you are, Stiles. Can you grab the extra napkins and serving spoons from the van? We're running low." Brooke asked me. I looked over at her and nodded. God, I can't catch a fucking break.

"Sure thing," I told her with an easy smile. As long as it gets me away from here, I don't care what it is.

"I'll help you." Erica volunteered, as she walked into the kitchen. I nodded in her direction in thanks.

* * *

We were packing up all of the serving trays and cleaning up the mess from the party. It's just another service we offer, for extra money, of course. Once everything was packed, Derek came out and pulled me aside.

"Can I talk to you? I can take you home when we're done." Derek said, loud enough for everyone else to hear. I nodded.

"Sure, Sourwolf," I agreed. He scowled at his new nickname. I shrugged. "What? It fits." I followed him back into Peter's house. Isaac just smirked at us. I'm never hear the end of this for as long as I live. It's official. "So, what did you wanna talk about?" I asked Derek, once we were back in the kitchen.

"Actually, my nephew was just doing me a favor. I wanted to speak with you." Peter said, from the opposite side of the room. I jumped and started falling backwards. Derek caught me, mid-flail. I thanked him, awkwardly. Derek laughed and walked away, once I was securely on my feet. "I wanted to thank you for all of your hard work today." Peter told me. I nodded, not knowing what to say.

He leaned down and pressed his lips on top of mine. I groaned and fisted his shirt, pulling him closer to me. I felt him smile against my mouth. I was the first to pull away.

"Is this how you thank all of your employees?" I asked him. He laughed.

"Not normally, but I suppose I could go track down Erica and Boyd…"

"No! That's okay." I exclaimed.

"Isaac was right about how pretty you are." Peter told me. There's that word again. I'm a man, damn it! But, I can't deny that when he said it, it did something to me that I couldn't explain. When he called me pretty, I really couldn't be offended. He says it like I'm something precious that should be treasured.

"Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"I can think of many, many more things that I'd like to say to you, Stiles. I'm afraid that I'd need to see more of your delectable body, so I can properly describe you. I'm not sure 'pretty,' does you justice." He admitted.

"I'm pretty sure I'd be okay with that."

"Are you? Because my exams are thorough and known to take _**all**_ night," he asked me, as his eyes traveled up and down my body. I nodded.

"I want you to." I breathed. His eyes found mine and it was impossible to finish whatever thought I was forming. His lips brushed my ear.

"When I first saw you tonight, I was paralyzed." He purred. I shuddered. "You should let your father know you won't be home tonight, because I plan on marking that pretty skin of yours."

"If you keep talking like that, you're going to make me finish, before we even get started." I groaned. I felt his lips curl into a smirk against my skin.

"I have no problems licking you clean." He said, instead of stopping. I hissed, trying to ignore the painful tent in my pants.

"Peter," I whined.

"We should continue this upstairs."

"Why?"

"If you keep saying my name like that, you won't have any more clothes to put on later."

"Okay. Which way?" I asked him. He grabbed my hand and led me away from the kitchen.

"I just need to lock the door."

"Lock the door?" I repeated, still distracted by his attractive self.

"Yes, Stiles, lock the door. If someone walks in on us, I'm not sure if I could stop myself and I doubt you want an audience.

"Oh," I murmured.

"You'll be saying a lot more of that later tonight." He promised.

"Fuck, Peter," I breathed.

"We'll get to that soon enough."

* * *

_~*.*~  
_'_Well, I'm not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you.  
I wanna make you move, because you're standing still.  
If your body matches what your eyes can do, you'll probably move right through me, on my way to you.'  
~*.*~_

* * *

**A/N: Review? Let me know that someone is actually reading these and they don't suck **_**too **_**much.  
-Anneryn**


End file.
